Take who? Me?
A tiny person rose from the ground. She’d been sitting close to the fire and had been staring into it during the whole scene. At first I’d thought she was a young boy. I remember thinking they had kids here so it couldn’t be too bad. Now that hope was gone. She had short, jet-black hair. She was wearing a Black Sabbath T-shirt, black jeans and combat boots. As she rose and walked toward us, I could see her face was done up with black eye makeup to the extreme. She probably had a pretty face under all that paint. As an adult I would see young girls made up during the Goth craze, and I would think none of them held a candle to Moe. The original Goth girl.
Without saying a word she walked over to me and just stood there. She didn’t meet my eyes, but looked at the ground. I looked to my right where Monster was sitting. He wasn’t even looking at me. Sometime during the last ten minutes (or had it been an hour?) he’d gotten a beer and was sitting there with his head thrown back, chugging it. To his right was the man called Froggy, the one who tried to help Willow. He was looking down at the broken lawn chair. Maybe he was trying to see if he could fix it. I don’t remember anyone else, although I know they were all there that night. Sitting around the campfire, watching, waiting, obeying.
I stood up and Moe slowly walked toward the motel. I clutched my bag to my chest and looked straight ahead as I followed her. Without turning around I knew with certainty that those mesmerizing eyes would watch me until I was behind the closed door of room number four.